


Unexpected

by Kaijuscientists



Series: Fictober 2020 [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Crying, Dead Ligur (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaijuscientists/pseuds/Kaijuscientists
Summary: They've successfully averted the apocalypse, and Crowley's invited his angel to stay the night at his place.  To bad he forgot about the puddle of dead demon in his living room.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Fictober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949386
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> 18\. PANIC! AT THE DISCO  
> Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia
> 
> this is pretty light on the whump

Crowley unlocked the door to his flat, pushing it open, and letting Aziraphale inside first.

“After you.” He says, exhaustion dripping off his voice. 

He follows the angel inside, only to run right into his back. He looks over Aziraphale’s shoulder and immediately sees the problem.

“Oh fuck,” Crowley curses, cringing, of all the things he had forgotten, the one he’d let Aziraphale walk in on would be a puddle of melted demon. “That was Ligur, forgot to clean him up.” 

Crowley snaps his fingers, and it disappears. 

“You… you ah, used the holy water on him?” Aziraphale asks quietly.

“Yeah, had to.” Crowley says, taking off his jacket and scarf, tossing them on his desk. “They would have killed me.” 

“Right.” Aziraphale says, voice distant, he couldn’t stop looking at the place on the floor. He couldn’t even see any evidence that a demon had been killed there. 

If it had been Crowley… would it be the same? Would he be reduced to a liquefied puddle of unrecognizable goo, to be miracled away and leave no evidence he had been there in the first place.

“Angel?” Crowley said, stepping in front of him and leaning over to get between his line of sight to the floor. “Hey? You alright?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale startles, flinches just slightly. “Yes, yes i’m good, tickety boo, and all that.”

“Ooookay.” Crowley says, not pushing the subject. They’d had a very long and very stressful day. Maybe the angel just needed to relax for a bit. “I am going to take a shower, will you be ok for a while?”

Aziraphale just nods, trying not to look at the spot on the floor again. 

“Should be some tea in the kitchen, help yourself.” 

And with that, Aziraphale is left alone in the room where Crowley killed a demon with the holy water that he had given him. He finds rather quickly he can’t be here, not by himself.

He wonders to the kitchen, just as minimalist as the rest of Crowley flat. He gets so far as filling a kettle with water, standing there at the sink watching the water flow as his mind ran wild. 

He can’t help but think about how that could have easily been Crowley.

He startles back to the present for the second time that night.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, and from the tone, Aziraphale is sure he’d been trying to get his attention for a while. “What’s wrong, angel?”

Aziraphale looks down, the kettle overflowing with water, and he drops it with a loud metallic clank into the sink, flinching back at the harshness of the sound. 

“Sorry,” Aziraphale says, backing away from the sink. “That was clumsy of me…”

“S’fine, angel.” Crowley says, sensing that something was very wrong. “No harm done.

“Wanna come with me? Go sit down?” He holds his hand out, and Aziraphale takes it with a trembling hand. 

Crowley’s not sure why, but instead of taking him to the living room, he leads the angel into his bedroom and sits him down on the edge of the bed. 

“Angel?” Crowley says, sitting next to him, still holding his hand. “Do you want to talk about it? I know we have a lot to deal with, and if you’d rather rest…”

“I just can't quite get that image out of my head, dear.” Aziraphale says, his voice only trembling a little bit.

“Of what?”

“Who did you say it was? Ligur?” Aziraphale says. “The holy water.” 

“Crowley… ever since I gave you that thermos, i was so, so afraid that when you opened it… it would be to end your own life.” Aziraphale chokes out, staring at the floor. “Or there would be some kind of accident, and you’d be g-gone, forever.”

“Angel, that was never on the table.” 

“That could have been you!” Aziraphale interrupts, looking up at Crowley, making eye contact as fat tears drip down his cheeks. He slaps a hand over mouth, as if saying that out loud would make it come true. 

“No, Those two would have drug me back down to hell, a life of eternal damnation. But you gave me that holy water, you saved me. ” Crowley says, holding both of the angel's hands in his. “It was always for protection, like I promised.”

“If one drop…”

“Didn’t though, did it angel?” Crowley counters, pulling a handkerchief from the ether and using it to gently dab away Aziraphale’s tears. “Look, far as i’m concerned, it’s thanks to you that i’m still here.”

“I suppose when you put it like that.” Aziraphale says, sniffling.

“There you go, that’s my angel.” Crowley says. “Now, I think we have a prophecy to be figuring out.”


End file.
